


fixed on your hand of gold

by Sroloc_Elbisivni



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Organized Crime, Attempted Seduction, Blackmail, Brass knuckles.....hot, Coerced labor, Failed Seduction, Heist, I blame the discord, Junoverse | Juno Steel Universe, Mob Queen Juno Steel, Murderous Mask—combined versions, Other, Peter Nureyev’s Emotional Repression, but DIFFERENT organized crime than canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-01-02 01:22:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21153263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sroloc_Elbisivni/pseuds/Sroloc_Elbisivni
Summary: Peter Nureyev hadn't realized the mob queen he was after wasn't the easy target he appeared to be. It was only the first of several mistakes.Juno Steel hadn't planned on collecting a pet thief, but sometimes life just dumps an opportunity in your lap.





	1. Peter Nureyev and the Queen of Mars

**Author's Note:**

> listen. listen. could this work, canonically? is there a clear point of divergence? I don't know. we are not here for character analysis. we are here to watch juno steel in a pretty dress and brass knuckles come for peter nureyev's entire life. 
> 
> No beta but the discord is very responsible for this. also episode 1 of season 3, which has wrecked me. i wrote all of this when i was supposed to be writing papers instead.

Peter had heard rumors about the toughest crew this side of the Sea of Tranquility. What thief in the Sol system hadn’t? The Rabbits had started small, staying local to Hyperion City, and then five years ago they had absolutely taken off, striking deals with the Kanagawas and the Triad and stretching across the shadows of the Red Planet. People whispered that Buddy Aurinko herself had a hand in it—no one _really_ knew where she was these days—others, that she’d never stand for someone else to be in the spotlight.

And Juno Steel was _certainly_ in the spotlight. 

Peter had brushed out one of his best personas for this—Rex Glass, who had a background strong enough to fool Dark Matters. Glass was dressed to the eights, just within ‘business appropriate’ for a secret agent while managing to achieve the kind of dark glitter and subtle flash that was the perfect complement to the lady shining like a sun on the edge of the room. 

Juno Steel wouldn’t have been Peter Nureyev’s first choice for someone to front a Family operation. He put on a good society face, all easy smile and rough grace, balancing in six-inch heels like a tower in the wind as he slid his way into a wealthy socialite’s good graces—Glass made sure his dark glasses were firmly on, it really wouldn’t do to be recognized from his stint as Perseus Shah here and now—but as Blair Rockridge laughed and pulled away, swan-shaped hairstyle bobbing through the crowd, the smile flickered at the corners and the blastersteel gray gaze drifted towards the window. Both were too open, too honest. You could read someone’s soul in a face like that, and Juno Steel’s soul was bored, and _lonely. _

This would be the easiest mark Peter had pulled in months. 

* * *

He opened with business, dropping hints about Dark Matters and their interest in the planet—Juno Steel could have anyone at this party with a come-hither stare, Peter had to catch his interest first—and bits of stories about the ancient Martian artifacts scattered around the place. Juno responded by rising to the conversation for a gratifying amount of time before shifting it to something a little more _personal,_ the man behind the sunglasses. From there, it was simple to flirt the lady into a corner, onto the balcony, laughing and dripping seductive charm like it was second nature. Juno truly was lovely—that rough charm ran all the way down. Peter calculated his schedule for the night, but had to ruefully conclude that there simply wasn’t enough time to follow through on all the promises his lips and eyes were making. 

“You know, I gotta say, Rex,” Juno teased, leaning up into him next to the balcony, “What’s someone gotta eat to smell the way you do?”

“Ah. It’s cologne, my dear.” Glass flashed a sharp-toothed smile, letting a hint of danger into the easy conversation to keep the tension high.

“Hm,” Juno murmured, leaning closer, one corner of his very kissable mouth pulled up. “Never tried eating cologne before.”

Rex Glass’s laugh was light and insouciant. The deep, warm chuckle that drifted out in response to Juno's joke was somehow, accidentally, entirely Peter Nureyev. Oh, dear. Time to regain control of the conversation. 

“Mmmmm,” he hummed, tracing one finger down Juno’s arm to watch him shiver. And incidentally move closer to the intriguing data chip tucked away in a pocket of his dress, according to Peter’s research. “Would you like to?”

Juno looked up at him from under heavy-lidded eyes, and then let out a whiskey-tinted sigh. “Rex. You know, you don’t have to do this.”

“Oh, my dear,” Glass murmured, tipping his chin down towards Juno’s face. “But…I believe I _want_ to.”

He tugged, lightly, on the front of Juno’s dress, and their mouths came together while his other hand went for that pocket.

The next thing he knew, Rex Glass was on his back on the ground, with three lasers and Juno Steel’s very annoyed scowl in his face. 

“Dammit,” the lady sighed. “Fine, Buddy, you were right.” He gestured casually with the laser at the two goons standing by. “Get him out of here. Quietly. Jet knows where I want him.”

Peter had the sinking feeling, as the two goons physically picked him up and carried him to a door that did _not_ lead back into the ballroom, that thinking this was going to be easy had only been his _first_ mistake of the night. 

* * *

Where Juno Steel wanted Peter was, apparently, straitjacketed and shackled to a chair deep below the mansion. The door was the kind of old blast door that dated back to the first years of the war, when people worried it would spread to Mars, and it could stop a nuclear bomb. On the other side of it were the two burly goons who had dragged him down here, watching the corridor with blasters. On this side of the door was Jet Siquliak—famed thief, expert getaway driver, and much larger in person than Peter had imagined. 

His chances of survival seemed to be shrinking by the moment. Still, never let it be said that Peter Nureyev didn’t know how to play the odds.

“So…” He tipped his head languidly to the side, to get a better look at Siquliak and also to test the limits of the straitjacket. It remained disappointingly tight. “What’s a nice young man like you doing in a place like this?”

"I am not young. Nor, according to my criminal record, do I believe I could be classified as nice. I am here to keep an eye on you, as according to Rita’s research and Juno’s own assessment, you are notoriously ‘slippery’.” 

There was a pause while they studied each other. 

“If you continue to try and escape the straitjacket, I shall be forced to resort to breaking your hands.”

Peter immediately went as still as he possibly could. “I shall take that under advisement.”

There was a pattern of knocks on the door before it slid open to admit Juno Steel, still in the radiant ballgown with a brand-new accessory in the form of a set of scuffed and scratched, well-used brass knuckles. 

“Thanks, Jet. Took me a bit to make my goodbyes. I hope he hasn’t given you too much trouble?”

“We have come to an understanding.”

Juno’s gaze turned to Peter, who projected his best innocent air. The lack of shades made it easier to feign ‘who, me?’

“.....right.” Juno nodded at Jet, who stepped out, leaving Peter alone in the room with a mob boss who knew Peter had been seducing him for a job. 

Ah. Still, the strategy had mostly worked earlier.

“I must say,” Peter mused, juggling a leg in its shackle. “I usually save this kind of thing for a second date.”

Juno huffed and leaned back against the wall, just on the edge of Peter’s sigh so he had to turn his head to pay attention. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t sleep with people who owe me. Gives them the wrong idea.”

“Owe?” Peter let out a Rex Glass laugh. “I will admit, it was naughty of me to investigate your pockets, but as I hardly got away with it—“

“We found your little stash of things squirreled away on the other balcony, Glass. Or—Shah, or Dauphin, or whatever your name is.” Peter’s smile became rather fixed as Juno shook his head. “Gotta admit, I’m trying to keep this city safe. It doesn’t look great when I can’t even let my guests hang onto their wallets at my own party.” 

“I—well, I am sympathetic to your security issues, but that seems like a rather unfounded accusation—“

“Hyperion City knows better than to steal from me,” Juno broke in, cutting Peter off. “We’ve got other non-locals tonight, but they’ve all been accounted for. You’re the only camera-dodger. Add all that to the yarn you tried to spin me about Dark Matters, and it all starts to paint a pretty clear picture.” Juno casually buffed his brass knuckles on his dress and checked the way they settled against his fingers. “Clear as glass, really.”

Peter retreated into the harsher patterns of Rex Glass’s voice, trying a new angle of attack. “All right. You caught me. Dark Matters has better things to worry about than Martian artifacts. Like, for example, a newly aggressive Martian crime family.” He let the implied threat of the weight of Dark Matters’ scrutiny dangle, careful not to cross any lines that would invite his disappearance. It was a well done intimidation. He really was pleased with it. Until Juno started laughing. 

“Wow, Rex, you really need to brush up on your research.” He leaned forward with a grin just a shade too smug. “But in this case I can give you a freebie. Dark Matters doesn’t care what we do here, as long as we stay out of their way.”

Peter decided it was time to keep his mouth shut. 

“So, let’s recap.” Juno pushed off the wall and started walking slowly and deliberately towards Rex. “You came into a place under my protection with the intent to steal from me, you _actually_ stole from several of my guests who I had promised a certain measure of security, and you told me a pack of lies with the intent to convince me I had a pretty little head to turn.” Juno stopped a foot from Peter’s chair and bent down to stare him in the eye. “You’ve done a lot of damage to my reputation tonight.” He shook his head and stepped back. “I did warn you. You didn’t have to do this."

Peter’s mouth was very dry. “I admit, I failed to fully comprehend your comment at the time.”

“Mmm.” Juno continue to study him. “And I admit, I don’t really care about the money. I’ve got too much as it is these days. But Buddy tells me it’s bad for business, and what I don’t have enough of is the time to chase off every two-bit thief who thinks my operations or my people are easy marks.”

The raised metal of the brass knuckles came up under Peter’s chin in a parody of a caress as Juno leaned in again. 

“So tell me…” there was a subtle beep and Juno’s eyes flicked to a wrist comm for a heartbeat before locking back on to Peter’s. “…Rex, or Christopher, or whatever you prefer. What kind of example should I make of you?”

Peter was suddenly intensely grateful for the way the straitjacket concealed certain parts of his anatomy. His Adam’s apple bobbed against the brass knuckles as he swallowed, trying to remind his voice how to work. 

“Frankly, I think that it would be a waste of resources to make me anything other than a live one.”

“You know, I had a feeling that you’d say something like that.” The brass knuckles retreated, but Peter’s spine just wound tighter, especially once Juno stepped out of view behind his head. “Gotta admit, I’m not opposed to the idea of a pet thief.”

The rustle of cloth was the only warning Peter had before the stun bolt hit him in the back. 

* * *

The next time Peter woke up, he was strapped into a medical cot, staring at a very clean, tiled ceiling. 

“Hey. You. Thief guy.”

The voice was coming from the left, and as Peter turned his head, he was conscious of a bandage at the base of his neck brushing against the fabric. 

“Good, you’re awake. What year is it?”

She ran him through a standard concussion question evaluation, with the exception of his name.

“No brain damage, Buddy. Go ahead.”

“Thank you, Vespa dear.” The figure lurking behind the green-haired medic stepped forward, a distinctly amused look in the eye that was visible between her curtains of curling red hair. Peter resisted the impulse to swallow his tongue. “I take it you know who I am?”

“Buddy Aurinko,” Peter said, regretting the rasp in his voice. “A name that speaks for itself.”

“Ah, and you’re a charmer, too. Don’t worry, I won’t be long, and then you’re free to rest for the rest of the evening. We’ll put you to work tomorrow.”

“And may I ask what that would entail?” Peter shifted, slightly, propping himself up on his elbows. “I must admit, in the past, I’ve preferred to remain….unaffiliated.”

“We’ll work that out as you go. I say ‘we’, but really, I don’t have any plans at this juncture that require your particular skills, so I expect what you do will be up to Juno for the foreseeable future. 

Peter recalled a particular crack about wanting a ‘pet thief’, and had to keep something bitter from twisting his lips. “I suppose he’ll be responsible for taking me for walkies, and feeding me twice a day?”

“Is that what he told you? Oh, dear. How uncouth.” Buddy sighed. “We’re hoping to make this as normal a hiring process as possible. You’ll have right of first refusal on jobs, barring an emergency. The Family will assume responsibility for your housing, food, a clothing budget and so on, just as we would for any active member. We won’t even add it to your debt.”

“Ah yes, that trifling matter.” Peter’s voice was very dry. “And may I know precisely how much I have ransomed myself for?”

“Twenty million creds.”

Peter had braced himself in time to avoid giving any reaction. He let out a brief nod, to show that he understood. It could have been much worse. This would only require….perhaps a six month's worth of work. A year at the outside.

A year’s worth of staying in place, being known by one name. 

Oh, dear. Still, it was better than a cold ditch by the side of the dome. 

“You can check with HR at any time to see exactly how much remains to be paid. We don’t intend to cheat you, I assure you. We understand that it would be far more trouble than it would be worth to keep you for too long when you truly didn’t want to be here.”

“Thank you for that,” Peter said, with all the irony he could muster. 

“Don’t mention it, darling. And just so we understand each other completely…Vespa?”

Vespa slipped out of nowhere, handed Buddy a tablet, and was gone again. 

“Now, once you agreed to the position, it was only fair to let you preserve your privacy. There are papers ready to be printed that only require a name to be complete enough to live and work here. We’ll even let you choose the name. But it is so easy for a man without a name to simply vanish again. So….”

She tapped something on the tablet and handed it over. A small blinking green dot shone up at him from within a maze of walls. 

“While you were out, we took the liberty of inserting a tracking chip. If you leave without notice, we will find you. If you go missing, we will look for you. If you try to leave Mars, we will know, and I can tell you I will be _very_ displeased.”

“So you mean to give me a leash.” Peter tried to fight off the bitterness rising in his gorge. 

“I _mean_ not to lose the first thief who slipped in past my and my very petulant colleague’s defenses without immediately being shot.” Buddy gave him a very long and level look. “You are a very interesting person, whoever you are. I intend for you to be interesting in a way that doesn’t destroy everything I’ve built.”

Before Peter could summon some kind of reply, there was a banging on the door of the infirmary and an extremely petulant voice calling, _”Buddy!”_

Buddy Aurinko rolled her eye. “I’m afraid that’s my cue. Rest up, darling, you’re going to have a busy day tomorrow.”

She swept out, and Peter Nureyev was left alone with the tablet, a fresh scar in his neck, and an extremely uncomfortable ball of emotion. 

So he was to be assigned to Juno Steel, was he? Well.

Peter Nureyev was very good at gauging when someone was attracted to him. And rules about sleeping with his debtors or not, Juno Steel _was_ attracted to him. Peter could work with that. 

Peter Nureyev had relieved himself from greater obligations before. He was confident in his abilities to work his way out of this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't believe i'm posting two separate WIPs three days apart. 'swallow someone whole' is probably getting updated first. 
> 
> the next chap of this is probably gonna be from Juno's POV because. the lady is a disaster. and i cannot properly display that from Nureyev's side.


	2. Juno Steel and Questionable Hiring Practices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juno Steel regrets his life choices, makes new ones, and then regrets _those_ in record time.
> 
> In the background, Peter Nureyev keeps getting distracted from his seduction plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i'm....updating this first. because people actually like this??? wow. Time to see what Juno's side of things is. 
> 
> Also?? Thank you _ so much,_ everyone who's left a comment or a kudos. They spark a great deal of joy. 
> 
> Chapter count has grown to 5 and will hopefully stay there. I make no promises regarding update speed.

Juno’s head made a hollow _thunk _as it hit the desk, sounding as empty as it had been accused of being over the years. 

“Buddy,” he said, into the synthetic wood surface. “_Why _did you _chip _him.”

“You’re the one who said it would be convenient if he was on our side, darling,” Buddy said, examining her nails. “I wanted to find a way to keep him there. Especially since you stopped Rita from digging up everything she could find.”

“You didn’t have to _chip_ him.”

“You really are getting too worked up over this, Juno. It’s one little tracking chip. Barely a bother. It’s not even a long term transmitter, it’s set to stop transmitting in six months.”

“Then what was the _point?”_

“Because by then he’ll either be connected enough that he won’t want to leave, or he’ll be enough trouble that we might as well kill him,” Buddy’s tone was much too mild and unconcerned for talking about killing a man. “I don’t see why you couldn’t just kill him now, Juno. It’s not like we couldn’t hire another thief, now that you’ve apparently decided we need one.”

Juno raised his head just enough to glare at Buddy. “I thought he was_ interesting._ You agreed with me.”

“Mhmmm,” she hummed. “I also thought he looked very….handsome, in that suit.”

Juno dropped his head back onto the desk. “You’re married.”

“You’re not.”

“Because everyone I know is either someone I don’t trust not to betray me, you, my brother, or works for me.”

“And do you consider our latest hire the first or the last?” 

Buddy’s tone said she was having entirely too much fun with this, so Juno just sighed. “What answer will get you to let me go get out of this dress?”

“An honest one.” And now her voice was very serious. “I need you to promise me you can handle this, Juno, or I will.”

Juno finally lifted his head off his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Don’t worry, Buddy. I know the flirting is just his way of getting what he wants. I’m not going to mix business and pleasure, and I’m definitely not going to sleep with someone who’d just be using me."

“What a refreshing change of pace.”

“Okay, that’s un—“

“Cassandra Kanagawa,” she said, flatly cutting off any argument.

“I know better _now,_” Juno complained, trying not to sound too much like a whine. 

“Of course you do, darling.”

Juno slouched back in his chair. “Can we be done now? _Please?_ Or do you want to bruise my ego some more?”

“But of course, darling. You know I only do it out of love.” She paused. “Oh, one last thing. We need to house our new thief. I don’t suppose you have any ideas?”

Buddy was looking especially pleased with herself. Juno had the feeling this question was a trap. 

“I mean, he shouldn’t be here,” Juno said, slowly, eyeing her. “Him living where we conduct business would be a bad idea. Same goes for living near anyone high up in crew business. But he shouldn’t be living with anyone who can’t defend themselves. And he should be in a part of town that’s ours, so we have plenty of eyes on the street in case he goes wandering."

“My thoughts exactly.” She was _definitely_ too pleased. “That’s settled, then. I’m putting him up over the bar."

Technically, the crew looked after a lot of bars. Some of them not even in Hyperion, including one Buddy simply called ”_my_ bar.” 

But _the_ bar could only be one place, and Juno had a sudden sinking feeling.

“Oh, no. No, no, no. There’s gotta be somewhere else.”

“But the bar so neatly fills all the requirements,” she said, innocently. “And if you can’t find something to do with him, I’m sure Benten could always train another bartender."

Juno groaned. It was a very long groan. 

Long enough that Buddy huffed. “I see it’s past your bedtime, if you’re going to act like a child. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Juno stopped groaning long enough to mutter, “Night, Buddy.” 

It was longer before he could muster up the energy to shower, change, and go home. 

* * *

Juno slept in, the next day. No one would have been expecting him until noon, even without the extra events of the night before. They knew how he felt about parties. 

The only reason he still went was because Buddy felt even worse, and had made it clear from the day she showed up with Vespa and Jet that playing the face of the crew for Martian society was _not_ going to be her job. 

By noon, he had choked down a mug of coffee and hauled himself from apartment to hovercar to office, nodding to the doorman as he trudged into the elevator. 

His brain was just kicking back into work mode as the elevator ticked down the couple of floors to his sub-basement office when he remembered that, huh, he had a new employee. And Buddy wasn’t happy at him for it. And Rita had gone home once she was done digging up information and he had _forgotten to warn her—_

The last five seconds of the elevator ride were considerably more stressful than the first twenty. 

It didn’t help that when the elevator doors slid open, the first thing Juno heard was a litany of complaints from the vicinity of Rita’s desk. 

“—ink is _splotchy._ I must admit, I haven’t heard wonderful things about the Martian government, but I refuse to believe anything official would be allowed to look so utterly sloppy.” 

Well. That wasn’t the complaint he’d been expecting.

The thief without a name currently perched on the edge of Rita’s desk let out a disgusted noise and flicked a small rectangular object onto the floor. “And this paper quality is completely wrong. How do you fool anyone with these?”

Wait, that sounded familiar. “Hang on, are those the IDs from the forger?” 

“Mmm.” The thief tossed another one on the floor. “They’re _something.”_

Juno grinned, feeling vindicated. Rita stuck her head out of his office and made a face at him from behind the thief’s back.

“I _told_ you she was ripping us off,” Juno said, plucking another fake passport off the desk and rifling through it. “The paper on the passport’s too thick, and the stuff that comes with the driver’s license isn’t nearly yellow enough. If he’s this sloppy about paper, what else doesn’t he do right?"

“Boss, you and Mista Rose are the only, and I mean the _only_ people who care about this,” she complained. 

“Yeah, well, last time you said the only person who cared about this was me.” He glanced at the thief. “Rose?”

“Ah, yes.” The newly named thief set down the visa he’d been scowling and held out one hand. “Duke Rose, at your service.” He fluttered his eyelashes behind a pair of rose-gold rimmed glasses.

Juno shoved his own hands deeper in his pockets. “Juno Steel. We’ve met.”

Rose withdrew his hand after a moment’s pause. “I see. Well, if you’re aware of the issue, why haven’t you replaced your supplier?”

Juno shrugged. “Not that urgent. Most places that get that picky about security are happy with an electronic signature, and Rita can work one of those up better than anybody else.”

Rose looked offended. “It’s not about _security,_ it’s about _verisimilitude._ The final touch that completes a look. What would the person whose skin you’ve stepped into walk around with? A passport? A driver’s license? Would it be well traveled, or freshly renewed? There is a science to it, or perhaps an art. Certainly a craft. But in these—no, no. Worthless.”

“Right,” Juno said, flatly. “If you really think you can do so much better, knock yourself out. Rita, you gave him the card?”

“I mean, I tried, Boss, but he got all fussy over the fakes and wouldn’t listen to a word I said.”

“Shame on you,” Juno said to Rose, conveniently ignoring all the times he himself had been too distracted to listen to Rita. “We’ve got a card for you, some kind of budget. Use it to get whatever supplies you need.” He was so pleased with the way this got the thief doing something out of his way that he decided to add to it. “Hey, if it turns out good, I’ll commission you to make more for the crew. Thousand creds each.”

Rose’s eyes flashed with interest before retreating to a cool bargaining. “Fifteen hundred. I make quality work.”

“We’re covering the supplies already. A thousand.” Juno didn’t feel like bargaining about this. He wanted the thief out of debt and off the planet as soon as was feasible, but letting him have whatever he wanted was a recipe for disaster.

“Oh, very well.” Rose subsided with a huff. Perhaps he had realized pushing this would not end well for him. 

Somehow, Juno had doubts. 

* * *

Juno retreated into his office to sort through whatever paperwork and reports Rita thought were important enough to bring to his attention. Mostly it was personal correspondance, making sure that people he had persuaded to cooperate still felt like he knew and cared about what they were doing. 

Frankly, Juno would be delighted to not know, or care, but he had learned the hard way that was a road to having to deal with things _after_ they blew up.

There was a weird message from Zhu Fang, second-in-command of the Triad, that felt like it was sounding him out for something suspect. Or maybe the guy just didn’t know how to issue a lunch invitation without a death threat. 

There was also a message from Min Kanagawa, politely pointing out that it had been a while since he’d met with Croesus and it would be nice to sit down with him sometime, have a nice chat. Juno wrote a reply mentioning that his broken nose, the result of the last time he had met with Croesus, was healing well and he wasn’t eager for another one, thanks. The Kanagawas were best met with in public with an agreed-upon number of cameras and without ownership rights to anyone else’s image. 

Eventually there was a knock at the door, and Juno called out “It’s open!”

Rose stuck his head in, not quite making eye contact. “Ah, Juno, I had a completed product ready to show you, if you have a moment….”

“Sure, come in.” Juno shuffled the papers on his desk, hiding the ones he had just started doodling on when he got bored with answering messages. 

“Thank you. I truly—“ Rose cut himself off, staring at the wall. “What on _earth?”_

“Oh. Yeah.” Juno’s favorite painting from his collection of bad art was hanging on the wall to the left of his desk, demonstrating a truly extraordinary lack of a grasp of color and a hideous array of subjects that could have been animal, vegetable, mineral, or all three. “That.”

“What _is_ that?” He sounded so horrified it looped back around to being in awe. 

“Uh….some piece by an overpaid Venusian? I can’t remember the name. I just like it.”

Rose made a strangled little sound. “You…like it.” 

“Sure. It’s terrible.” Juno figured he’d cut him a break. “What did you want to show me, Rose?”

Rose….made a strange and sudden movement, like a wire had clicked back into place, and then strode over to Juno’s desk. “Oh, please, Juno, feel free to call me Duke. And this, as the sample of my wares.” With a theatrical bow and flourish, he held a small booklet out over Juno’s desk. 

Juno took it gingerly, carefully not brushing against Rose’s skin, and flicked through it. 

It was a passport for Duke Rose, born on Io thirty-five years ago, currently a resident of Mars. It had been issued four years ago, and looked like its owner had been taking care of it since then. 

It was _extremely_ well done. The paper quality was flawless.

“Huh.” Juno flipped through it again, looking for signs of forgery, and had to admit he couldn’t find any, even knowing it was a fake. “This is…really good.”

“I’m so glad you think so,” and Juno had to hold back a flinch for his gun as he realized Rose had moved around the desk to peer over his shoulder. 

He couldn’t hold back the yelp, though. “Ah! Goddammit, warn a lady.” He shoved the passport back into Rose’s chest, ignoring his smirk. “Yeah, yeah, guess you weren’t just blowing smoke. Can you make up a set for…” he considered. “…uh, Buddy, Jet, and Mick? Rita’s got stuff on file for them. Mick doesn’t even need a fake name, he just lost his.”

“Of course, Juno.” Rose seemed to sound amused on a permanent basis. “And one for yourself, I assume?"

Juno snorted, swiveling to face his deck and go back to work. “Don’t bother. No point.”

“Really?” 

“Everyone on Mars knows Juno Steel runs a Family.” He tried not to sound bitter about it.

“And off Mars?”

“I don’t go off Mars.” Didn’t leave Hyperion, really. He was needed here. 

“That’s a shame. It’s a big galaxy out there, Juno. Lots of fabulous sights to see…especially with the right person…” 

Looking up was a mistake. Rose was _very_ close. And wearing that…cologne again…

“Juno?” His eyes glittered, and he leaned even closer, something in his pocket brushing against Juno’s leg. Hang on, was that… “Did you need something?”

“Um.” Juno coughed and scooted his chair away. “No. You can leave.”

He let Rose get halfway across the room, so he had some breathing space, and then called out, “And put Rita’s stapler back, while you’re at it.”

Rose stiffened, slightly. “Stapler?”

“The one that walked itself into your pocket,” Juno said, dry as he could manage.

“Right. Of course. A momentary borrowing, I assure you.”

It was a few moments after that that Rita’s voice crackled over his intercom. “You didn’t haveta do that, Mista Steel.”

“What, am I supposed to just let him think he can get away with it?”

“I’m just sayin’, he seems like a very nice young man, just tryin’ to do his best—“

“Rita, he’s a thief! You looked him up for me, you know how much he’s stolen!”

“It was just a stapler, Mista Steel. And he looked real sad about having to put it back. I think you hurt his feelings.”

Juno groaned and put his head down on his desk.

“Oh, and you got an incoming call from Casa Kanagawa, Mista Steel.”

Juno groaned again, very loudly, and then sat back up and had her put it through. 

“Juno Steel.”

“Min Kanagawa. To what do I owe the pleasure? I wasn’t even late responding to your message this time.”

Min gave a perfect, perfectly polite smile. “I’m afraid I haven’t had the change to peruse your response yet, Juno. We’ve had a rather…busy evening.”

“If it’s so busy, do you really have the time to call me about it?”

“I’m afraid I require your assistance. In a professional capacity.”

Juno shook his head. “If it’s business, I need to get Buddy in here—“

“Your other profession. Detective.”

“Ah.” He paused. “No one’s called me that in a while.”

“Really? How strange. You’re still in the Hyperion Registry.”

“Must’ve forgotten to tender my resignation.”

“I would appreciate if you’d save that until after you take one last case.”

“Yeah, sorry, Min, it’d have to be one hell of a—“

“Croesus is dead.”

Juno stopped._ “…Ah.”_

* * *

Juno refused to believe that _stupid_ mask dug up in the desert had actually been carrying an Ancient Martian ghost. But he owed the Kanagawas a favor after the mess with Cecil and the Triads, and he really didn’t want to go in _alone,_ so…

Juno grumbled for a minute straight between hanging up on Min and paging Rita. 

“Find Rose and tell him I need Rex Glass to meet me in the lobby in ten minutes.”

* * *

“Why, Juno! Fancy seeing you here.”

Juno scowled at the suited, sunglassed man who stepped out of the elevator. He’d seen Rose earlier today, and the man couldn’t have had more than eight minutes to change, but the Rex Glass who stepped out of the elevator was a completely different person. The embodiment of Dark Matters Juno had met at the party last night. Cool, professional, too smart for his own good, sexy—

Juno gave himself a mental smack. _Snap out of it, Steel._

“Right now, it’s Detective. How good’s your Dark Matters credentials?” He strode out of the door, Glass falling into step beside him. 

“Oh, exceptional. Rex Glass is one of their top field agents. An expert in the supernatural—“

“Including Ancient Martian artifacts, right?” Juno unlocked the waiting car. 

“Oh, you remembered, Detective. You flatter me.” That grin had way too many sharp teeth. Juno got in the car to avoid it, and didn’t realize his mistake until he and Rex were shut in the car with Rex’s cologne. 

“Yeah, well right now that’s what I need. Apparently, one of those ancient Martian myths spread Croesus Kanagawa’s blood all over his vault. His wife’s calling in the favor I owe to have me investigate how. She wouldn’t like anyone else from my organization coming in, but Agent Glass—“

“She has no reason to object to. I see.” Glass shifted in his seat, but Juno didn’t look over at him. “So, for today, we are partners, hm?”

“You’ll be paid a bonus for getting us both out of there alive without stealing anything and without starting a war,” Juno said, flatly. “I’m not exactly thrilled to drag you into gang politics but we’re a little short on options today.”

“Oh, not to worry, _Detective.”_ Juno suppressed a shiver at the way Glass’s tongue curled around those three syllables. “I’m sure we shall…work very well together.”

Juno took a deep breath, reminded himself that the man in the seat next to him both worked for him and was only trying to be seductive for his own selfish reasons, and turned onto the broad road towards the floating mansions of Hyperion. “What do you already know about the Kanagawas?"


	3. Rex Glass and the Murderous Mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An investigation, an artifact, an attempt at a dinner date, several attempts at seduction, and more gang politics than you can shake a stick at. Blends the original and updated canons of Murderous Mask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...so the chapter count is no longer at 5. I'm hoping that after the next one I can work in some timeskips and speed up the pining.  
I will say that Peter Nureyev just fucking tuning out entire conversations being canon made this chapter much easier to write. It helped make up for the fact that I can't just have Juno get beat up to solve cases.  
Also I'm just??? Absolutely BLOWN AWAY by how much love people are showing this story, I can't even tell you. Thanks, y'all, I'm glad you're enjoying my ridiculous self-indulgence. I cranked out almost all of this today because I had nothing urgent due and I just...wanted to keep engaging.

The inside of the elevator up to the Kanagawa mansion was a relief, after the crowd outside, although Peter wasn’t sure if he should be more or less worried by Juno’s blasé assurances that there hadn’t really been that many. The ‘breed like rabbits’ comment certainly caught his attention.

“Have a lot of spawn scattered around, do you, ah, Detective? Or do you leave that to your underlings?”

“What—oh, no, not my crew Rabbits. I meant real rabbits. Like the ones in the sewers.” Juno let out a soft _’heh’_ that could, generously, be called a chuckle. “Though they are the reason for the name. And unofficial members. We pay ‘em in carrot cake.”

Peter wasn’t sure whether Juno was joking or not. He had the terrible suspicion he wasn’t, but not enough time to confirm it before the doors opened.

The headquarters of the Kanagawa family media and criminal empire were a far cry from an office building with an extra-large basement in downtown Hyperion. For one thing, it practically bristled with the shiny points of cameras. Peter made use of a tiny makeup mirror to try and check ahead, see what to dodge, but Juno Steel caught him at it and snorted. 

“Cameras are off, for this. Part of a deal I have with Min.”

“Oh? Not eager for further stardom?”

“The Kanagawas are less likely to maim you if they won’t get the views for it. They’re nice and straightforward that way.” Juno’s smile this time was an ugly thing. ”_Only_ that way.”

Peter had the feeling there were a delightful number of twisty stories under that answer, but his attention was sharply diverted by the looming doors of a tomb. 

“Case in point,” Juno said, with a sigh. 

* * *

Peter thought he would like Cassandra Kanagawa, or at least like watching her wind Juno up, but he went to investigate the mask’s case at Juno’s prompting. Like a good pet thief. 

Remembering that, Peter was irritated enough that when he noticed Juno had wrapped up his interview and was hovering at the edge of the blood spatter, looking slightly green, he trilled with unnecessary enthusiasm “Oh, remarkable! Detective, you really must come see this!” 

He wasn’t only doing it for petty revenge, of course. There was a rather intriguing pair of characters he couldn’t identify on the inside of the case, and was trusting that Juno would know what they meant. 

Judging by his curse, he did. "Shen Long.”

“You’re familiar?” Now the name clicked into place—the leader of the Triad, one of the other gangs of the city. “Ah—a calling card, or a threat?”

Juno rubbed his hands over his face. “A calling card, usually. They leave it at the site of their high profile killings. But this doesn’t make _sense._ Shen isn’t looking to expand, and even if the Triad were bold enough to do it this way, they wouldn’t announce it like this unless they wanted to start a war. Croesus has been _de_-escalating lately, after that mess Cecil made, so there’s barely a reason to do _that…”_ He trailed off. “I _hate_ working with the Kanagawas.” He looked rather cute when he was petulant. Which reminded Peter that he was supposed to be seducing him. Well, Rex Glass had…almost…succeeded at that before. 

“Was Cassandra not very forthcoming?” Rex’s tone contained an appropriate amount of sympathy. Yes, your life is hard, things are difficult, tell me about it, let me make it easier…

“Her dad was just murdered. What do you think?”

Swing and a miss. He’d have to work on it. 

Juno collected a few more details about the case and the damage before coming to the same conclusion Peter had—someone had tried to steal the mask, or at least cut open the case to try and kill Croesus with the alien tech. The mask hadn’t just acted on its own. That concluded, he shoved his hands into his pockets and turned away. “Come on. I want to check with Cecil and then you’re free to go.”

“I beg your pardon?” It was easy to catch up with Juno in a few long steps—less easy to not sound accusatory that he was being brushed off. He hadn’t even _wanted_ to be here, it shouldn’t grate that he was being released. 

“It wasn’t anything supernatural, right? Just a botched robbery?” Juno reached for the tomb doors with a grimace of distaste, so Rex lengthened his stride just enough to sweep them open with a bow. He was rewarded with a glare as Juno swept through. “Or a trap, but either way _someone_ cut that case open. Next stop is getting the Triad’s side of things, and I can do that myself.”

“This would be the same triad that you retrieved Cecil Kanagawa from, sans an arm?” Rex Glass’s voice did ‘an arch tone’ very well, but the end trailed off as Peter closed the door and grew distracted by something….shiny underneath the handle.

“It’s _fine._ I work alone all the…” Juno’s voice trailed off in the distance, followed by approaching footsteps. “Rex. What are you doing?”

“There’s a peculiar device under here.” Rex Glass wore a pair of very nice synth-leather gloves that kept his fingerprints well concealed, and also made it easy to pinch the small spike underneath the door without getting jabbed. “I…don’t know if I’ve ever seen something like it before.” It glittered when he held it up to the light.

“Give it here, I’ll take a picture and Rita can look it up.” 

Peter immediately squashed the temptation to hold the thing over his head out of Juno’s reach like a petty child, though he did smirk as Juno pulled out his comms to take a picture. 

_I work alone._ Hardly. 

* * *

Cecil Kanagawa seemed like a delightful, charming, utterly deranged man. Peter was very glad that Juno had managed to get them out of that particular interview with no more than a mentally scarring encounter with a Cameraman. Fortunately, the creature had been glued to Cecil’s side, not wandering down a hallway in pursuit of prey. True, it didn’t have a mouth with which to consume prey—not that Peter could…tell……

Well, Peter hoped not to encounter the Cameramen ever again, so it shouldn’t become relevant to his life. He hadn’t tracked the salient details of the interview, beyond Cecil’s display of security footage from the night before, of disguising himself as Cassandra. Juno hadn’t liked that at all.

Juno relaxed as soon as they left the mansion, his shoulders slackening in the driver’s seat as he _whooshed_ out an exhale. “If Min tries to call in a favor after this, I’m sending Mick. Or I’ll just lay a trail of carrot cake and send one of the damn sewer rabbits.” 

Before Peter could try and respond, Juno’s comms chimed and he fielded a call from Rita, making thoughtful noises. Peter’s hands automatically wandered to investigate the glove compartment before Juno leaned over to swat them away. He used the opportunity to run a finger down the back of Juno’s hand, hoping it would make him shiver and set a particular mood. 

It made him flinch back against the door and bang his hand off of Peter’s seat. He really was too high-strung. Really, even if sleeping with him hadn’t been Peter’s fastest way out of debt, he might do it anyway just to make the lady unwind a bit. 

“Yeah, thanks Rita. Wait half an hour, then tell Buddy I’m going to the Empire’s Dragon. With Gla—Rose.” A pause. “We’re not going for dinner, someone's _dead—_yes, fine, okay, I’ll get you chow mein. _Yes._ Bye, Rita.”

“Why, Juno,” Rex Glass purred, sliding his sunglasses down his nose. “If you wanted a dinner date, you only had to ask.”

Juno scowled and put the car in gear with more force than necessary. “Not like _that._ It’s a front. And I can get a word in with one of the top guys there.” He paused. 

Rex let out an airy, dismissive sigh. “A shame. I was feeling rather peckish.” A little discreet eyelash-fluttering, to compliment the tone, even though Juno had his eyes on the road. “You’re _sure_ there’s no time for a meal?”

* * *

As it turned out, there was. 

Whatever internecine Hyperion City organized crime politics were having Juno play the part of a detective—one he filled out rather admirably, especially where the stereotypical trench coat was concerned—meant that when the waiter smiled with too many teeth and offered them a table, Juno scowled but accepted.

Rex Glass also wore a smile with too many teeth, and flashed it at Juno over the little cups of tea they’d been provided with. “Do you call here often, then, Detective?”

“More often than I’d like. Don’t drink the wine.”

The waiter returning with a bottle looked offended, but took himself away again at Juno’s glare. Away through the many, many empty tables. 

“Is the quality that bad?” 

“It’s either bad or poisoned. Wonder who I ticked off this time?”

“Do you anger a lot of people, then?” Rex surveyed Juno, in the guise of surveying the menu.

“Not as many as I’d like. But punching someone out now tends to cause me more problems than it used to.”

“Really.” 

“Yeah. Now instead of getting beat up in a back alley for my troubles, I get Pereyra locking down Old Town just to make people’s lives worse.” He picked up the chopsticks and started flipping one between his fingers, moodily. 

“Hm. It seems you’re aptly named then. Goddess of protectors, and all that.” 

“Yeah, well if I remember right, she had a nasty habit of trying to kill her kids.” The chopstick spun to a stop. “Guess you’d know a lot about names, in your line of work. What’s Rex mean?”

Rex set the menu down in order to give Juno his full attention. “Oh, King, in a language ten thousand years gone.”

“Real humble, aren’t you?”

Rex hummed, leaning forward over the table to drape himself on one hand. “Oh, I’d say it suits…me…rather well.” He would never be so uncouth as to admit to a persona in an unsecured location, but he trusted Juno to get the message. “Powerful. Confident. Semi-divine.” The corner of his mouth quirked up as he remembered a certain conversation from—had it really only been the night before? “In search of a queen.”

Juno didn’t look angry with the creeping flirtation, but he definitely didn’t look impressed. “You’re a smooth operator, Rex.”

“It’s something I try to know a lot about, in my line of work.”

There was a cough. “I do hate to interrupt, Mr. Steel, but I was informed you wanted to speak with me?”

Juno sat up, turning to the newcomer before narrowing his eyes. “Fang. You’re not who I was expecting.”

“Oh, what a shame. And here I thought you had changed your mind and decided to accept my lunch offer after all.” He took a seat at the table. “I don’t believe I’ve met your new companion.”

Rex Glass slid on a professional smile just short of smarmy. “Agent Rex Glass, with Dark Matters. The detective has been kind enough to assist me with my investigations by allowing me to tag along.”

“The detective?” The man, Fang, didn’t introduce himself further. His gaze slid off of Rex as unimportant, right back to Juno. “Have you taken up a new profession, then?”

“Resurrected an old one. The Kanagawas are calling in a debt to handle a problem.”

Fang laughed, one of the many nervous variations people used to dismiss stress. “I hope you’re not referring to our little local operation, here.”

“I might. And then again, I might not be. That really depends on you.”

“I’m…afraid I don’t take your meaning.”

“Then I’ll make it very simple.” Juno placed his hands flat on the table, taking control of the space with one subtle gesture. Most conversations bored Peter, but this one…oh, this one it was very easy to stay interested in. “What does Shen Long get with Croesus Kanagawa dead?”

“Dead?” Fang sat up from where he’d been leaning back, almost bored. “The Kanagawa patriarch is _dead?”_

Peter Nureyev was familiar with acting—especially acting innocent. Fang didn’t have the signs. 

This was just turning out to be one twisty thing after another, wasn’t it?

“Unless it turns out losing four pints of blood and your whole head is a survivable condition,” Juno said, grimly.

“Oh…the fall programming…” Fang put a hand over his eyes. “A master of the craft, gone before his time…”

“Yeah, it’s a real tragedy.” Juno rolled his eyes at Glass. “Come _on_, Fang. Why are you here? Where’s Long?”

“Oh…” Fang let out one more sigh, before returning to business. “I’m afraid my predecessor has gone to the same place as Croesus. A…conflict of interest, you might say. There are those of us who felt he was crossing lines that should not be crossed.” There was rather too much implication in that tone for Peter’s liking.

Juno narrowed his eyes. “Guess I should offer my congratulations, then.” He pulled his hands back, getting to his feet. “Thanks for lunch.”

“Oh, but you haven’t even eaten yet!”

“Looking at corpses tends to make me lose my appetite. Come on, Glass.”

“_Detective_, I’m not sure I like what you’re implying!” Fang’s tone, and the stances of the waiters, was enough to make Glass rise to his feet and reach for the knife tucked away in one pocket.

“And if Min Kanagawa finds out you were trying to rob her, it won’t be _implied_ for much longer.” Juno shoved his hands in his pockets, glaring Fang down. To his credit, the man didn’t look away. “Nice story you got there, good way to shift blame onto a dead guy, but you sent me that lunch invitation last night. I know how long it takes for your higher guys to finish yelling at each other and agree to a new leader, because I was there when Shen Long came in. He was dead before your thief ever set foot in Croesus’ place.” Juno’s shoulders slumped, glare falling away as he made eye contact with a chair. “I don’t want a fight, and I sure as hell don’t want a war. I’m not going to rat you out to Min or challenge your authority. I just want to settle my debts and go home for the day. Alright?”

Peter waited for the explosion. Not with bated breath—he kept his breathing even, steady, keeping oxygen flowing to his muscles. Ready to fight.

But it seemed Fang didn’t want a fight either, because he sighed and waved off his thugs with one hand. “Very well. I suppose you don’t have any proof, anyways.”

“Great, thanks.” Juno turned towards the door, and then turned back, as if remembering something. “I don’t suppose I could get some chow mein to go?”

* * *

He couldn’t. They weren’t run out of the building, but Rex did walk very quickly. With a hand at Juno’s elbow, in case he decided to lean a little further into those suicidal baiting tendencies.

From there, it was back to Casa Kanagawa, up the elevator and into the depths of the mansion, to the outside of a lushly appointed office. Juno said nothing the whole time.

“Well?” Glass finally asked, when they had been stopped in front of the door for two whole minutes.

“I know who did it, I know why, and I know why the Triad was there.” He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “And I’ve got a feeling I know why _I’m_ here, and I don’t like it.”

“You could just leave, I suppose.”

“No. I want to be done with this.” He shook his head, and reached to knock. “Stay here.”

“Woof, woof,” Peter said dryly, earning himself a glare before Juno walked in.

The only thing he caught before the door shut was “Alright, Min, what the hell—”

Peter had intended to stay outside. He didn’t think Madame Kanagawa would go to all this trouble just to kill Juno Steel now. Or himself, come to think of it.

Now, the very angry Cassandra Kanagawa coming down the hall with a gun in her hand….that was another matter.

* * *

When it was all over, finally, Croesus’s death by misadventure unraveled and Cassandra carted away to the Hoosegow, Juno stormed out of the building.

He was in the car well ahead of Glass, scowling at the wheel. Peter kept his mouth shut the whole ride back, and focused instead on slowly unraveling Rex Glass, piece by piece, The hair loosened, if still stiff with gel. The sunglasses removed, the face relaxed. Cufflinks off and tucked away, tie loosened and slid into a pocket, top shirt buttons undone. He’d need a few moments in a bathroom to properly wash away the gel and makeup before he could attempt the journey to his new abode without linking it to Rex Glass. A few more moments if he wanted to link it specifically to Duke Rose, but he’d rather keep the associations between his work and his living space as minimal as possible. Perhaps a futile effort, given who was providing it; perhaps the difference of a few crucial minutes if he ever had to make a daring escape.

After entering the building, and the privacy of the elevator, he did dare to say, “Juno…”

“Don’t.”

“This wasn’t your fault.”

“I said _don’t_, alright?”

Peter decided to keep his mouth shut.

They exited on the same floor, but Peter hesitated in the hallway to the bathroom as he heard Rita call out to Juno.

“Mista Steel! It’s good to see you made it back, the streams said there were cops at the Casa Kanagawa!”

“Yeah. I saw.”

“What happened?”

“It…” A very long pause. “Min used me. Again. I’ll tell you later.”

“You sure will, but first you might wanna tell the other Mista Steel. He kept callin’ and callin’ all afternoon, in a real tizzy.”

Peter felt his breath go out in a whoosh. Was _this_ the reason Juno responded so poorly to any advances? A secret husband? Even though—none of his research—_how?_ And how did a married man look as _lonely_ as Juno had, at that party, like the whole world was happening while the only thing he could do was stand back and watch?

Peter suppressed the thoughts ruthlessly, straining to catch Juno’s response. The first part just seemed to be a groan. “Aw, _Ben_…”

“And when you wouldn’t pick up your comms, well…”

“Rita…”

Whatever Juno had been going to say was lost in the sound of a door sliding open.

“Hey, Lady Raincloud. Rough night?”

“Benten.” The word came out as a sigh. “Look…”

The door slid close, and the rest of the conversation was shut away. There was only the faint clacking of Rita’s keyboard, and then the sound of things shuffling into a bag, and a pair of sensible shoes clopping towards the elevator.

Peter slipped silently into the hallway, unwilling to be caught eavesdropping on even that hint of domestic unrest.

So. Exchange Rex Glass for Duke Rose, make his way to his new lodgings, try and calculate how much remained of his debt.

And separate as much of his life as was possible from Juno Steel and his affairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A scene I won't get to, with the POV change:  
Peter, wiping off his makeup in the bathroom: upset? me? why would I be upset that Juno has a husband who doesn’t go to his PARTIES or APPRECIATE him, I bet ‘the other Mister Steel’ doesn’t even CARE about paper quality—


	4. Benzaiten Steel and Emotional Idiocy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pacing is hard. POV switches condensed into one chapter.  
To be clear: Ben is also a participant in emotional idiocy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _whoaaaooh, we're halfway there_  
which is why this chapter is weird about pov. gotta get that sweet timeskip going to stay on track!

Juno let the whole story spill out, from the call to Cassandra’s arrest, while flopped on the floor next to the desk and staring at the ceiling. Ben, from his perch on the desk, _hmmed_ and let out sympathetic ‘ahs’ in all the right places.

“Well, that sucks,” he said, finally, after Juno had wrapped up the story. 

“Yeah,” Juno said, staring at the ceiling. “Juno Steel screws it up again.” 

Ben threw a pen at him. Hard. 

_”Ow,”_ Juno complained. “Hey, watch it.”

“I thought you said Min was pulling strings on this whole thing. Can’t be your fault when if it hadn’t been you, she would have dragged someone else into it and you wouldn’t have had a clue.”

“I guess,” Juno admitted in a mutter.

“Lucky for you, Supersteel, I don’t guess. I know I’m right.” Ben swung his legs off the side of the desk. “Come on. You’re staying at my place tonight.”

“I can get home on my own,” Juno grumbled, rolling over to curl up on the rug.

“Sure you can,” Ben said cheerfully, and that was all the warning Juno got before his legs were grabbed and Ben started dragging him towards the door. 

“Wha—hang on—hey!” Juno flailed in resistance, but Ben was used to regularly hauling around dance partners. He had Juno out in the hallway before Juno managed to wrest his legs free and scramble up. 

“Hey, look at that, you’re on your feet.” 

Juno growled and pulled his coat back into place. “You don’t have a spare bedroom any more. I’m not crashing on your couch.”

“Either you come to my place or I go to yours,” Benten said, firmly.

Juno groaned. “Fine,_ fine._ Come over if you want.”

By the time Juno realized he had been played into having a babysitter for the night, he was already unlocking the door and Ben was ducking in. “Dibs on the bed!”

_”Ben!”_

* * *

The bed ended up being a moot point after Ben insisted on a marathon of ‘Dancing with the Nebulas’. Juno woke up on the couch when the monitor he really only had for stream nights with Rita or Ben’s invasions started blaring the grating theme song for ‘Turbo Saves the Day’.

Juno took a little more pleasure than necessary in yanking the blanket out from under Ben in a way that dumped him on the floor. Ben’s groan was very loud in the sudden silence after Juno switched off the system. 

“This is your fault,” Juno said, instead of “Good Morning” before he went to go make coffee. 

* * *

It always took Ben a little longer to get started in the morning, so Juno had a reprieve until halfway through breakfast. 

“Sho," Ben said around a mouthful of eggs. “There wash—“ 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full. 

Ben swallowed loudly and deliberately, rolling his eyes. “So there was an actual reason I was looking for you yesterday, before Rita told me you got yourself involved in a murder case again—“

“Listen, I didn’t to a goddamned thing to get _myself_ involved—“

“Yeah, yeah, let me finish, will you?” He took another bite. And chewed. Very. Slowly. 

Juno took a fortifying sip of coffee and reminded himself that he was too old to wrestle his brother into the carpet. And also that Benten would probably win. 

“Anyway” Ben said, once he had made a point of not talking with his mouth full. “I asked Buddy why I’m putting a stranger in my spare apartment and she said I should ask you.”

Juno tried to look casual by taking a swig of coffee, took too much, and spilled it down his shirt. “Ah, shit.”

“Ooh,” Ben’s eyes lit up and Juno suddenly regretted all of his life choices. “You _like_ him.”

“No!” Juno snapped. “It’s not like that!”

“You like a guy, so you dragged him into your crime life,” Benten mused. “This is Mick all over again. And Alessandra. And—you know, you really need to learn how normal dates work.”

“Okay, he robbed me first, I’m not _dragging_ him into anything.” Juno waved his fork for emphasis. “And he tried to honeypot me to do it, so i’m sure as hell not going to give him any kind of satisfaction.” He stabbed a piece of mushroom. “Also, I pay him. And I refuse to turn into one of those creepy old bats who sleep with the pool boy.”

“So that means I get to try him out?”

Juno could see the look Ben was giving him, and he refused to be baited. “I mean, I’m sure Buddy would have opinions about it.” He decided to press the advantage while he could. “And hey, what happened to that florist you were seeing?”

Ben huffed. “Artistic differences. Not important. Look, Juno, this guy won’t work for you forever, right?”

Juno had put together the common denominator of the exes Ben refused to talk about a while ago, and knew that ‘not important’ usually meant ‘they found out I’m connected with the mob and wanted out’. 

“Benten, you know if you wanted to get off planet, we’d help you go, right?”

Ben waved a hand. “Not what we’re talking about.”

“It could be. Hell, it probably should be.”

“Mmm, no.” Ben kicked him under the table. “I’m a big boy. I can handle myself. If I wanted to go, I’d go.”

“Benten, seriously, you don’t have to stay here—“

He was cut off by Ben’s fork sliding against the plate a little too hard, making it shriek. “It’s my city too,” Ben said, softly, flatly, once Juno had stopped talking. “I’m not going to run away because you decided your life choices were too dangerous for me.”

Juno pushed at his eggs, instead of eating any more. “Yeah.”

There was the very thin careful silence that they had stretched over an old argument, then, hanging in the air. Juno practiced what to say to people, a lot, witty remarks to disarm them or smooth phrases to flatter or delicate comments to defuse dangerous situations. But he couldn’t do that with Ben. When he tried to practice, everything came out wrong, and Benzaiten noticed. The only thing Juno could do in their conversations was say exactly what he was thinking, and when he knew that would be the wrong thing, say nothing. 

He just wanted Ben to be happy. And it was hard to do that when sometimes it felt like Juno was actively making problems in his brother’s life. 

“Thanks for breakfast,” Ben said, suddenly, standing up and clearing his plate. “I’m…gonna go.”

“Do you want a—“

“No, no, I’m—“

They talked past each other before petering out awkwardly, staring at each other. 

“Look, I’ll…see you later. We can grab dinner or something. Just….” Ben hesitated. “Just, take care of yourself. Okay? You deserve…” He trailed off. “You should have something good. That makes you happy.”

“I’m fine,” Juno said, automatically. 

“Sure you are,” Ben said, sounding unconvinced. 

* * *

Peter had received a message on the comms that had been left in his new…rooms that he wasn’t expected at the office at a certain time, but that there was a deadline on finishing the fake IDs he had agreed to make. All of his supplies were at the office, so it only made sense for him to go back in. 

Running into Juno was a thought that had never crossed his mind, but, well, the man did have a rather crucial position. It was hardly a _surprise_ to drift through the lobby and see him exiting the elevator, sans husband.

“Ah, Mr. Steel,” he said. It was back to his last name for now, a reminder that there was more than one of them. 

Peter was a grown adult. He was perfectly capable of recognizing when his emotions had become involved in a job and required pruning. And such was the case with Juno Steel and Benten, Juno’s mysterious husband. 

His pride had been wounded. His _professional_ pride, no less. True, he now had a reason for Juno’s failure to be attracted to him, a minor balm to his wounded ego, but the mysterious husband was a glaring proof of Peter’s failure as a researcher. He should have known, well ahead of time, that his mark was married. Married targets required a special touch—some of them were bored with their spouses, or lonely, and wanted variety or company. Some were monogamous and needed to be courted as friends. Others would never dream of singly taking a partner, but if offered the right signals would be quick to issue an invitation to the center of the marriage bed. 

If pressed, Peter would hesitantly classify Juno in retrospect as the lonely type. But even those needed to be reassured, cosseted into leaving behind their scruples, made to feel that none of their choices would have consequences. And that didn’t seem like something Juno would ever allow himself to do. 

Peter distracted himself with his own thoughts for long enough that Juno murmured an absent ‘hello’ and slipped past him, vanishing into his office. 

Well, Peter couldn’t go after him _now._ He would just look tastelessly desperate. He needed to refine his strategy. He needed to do research. 

And that meant he had to cast himself back to the time, many years ago, when he had lived under someone else’s roof, and snatch time for his own projects by finishing other people’s work earlier than expected. 

* * *

Peter chose to do his research back at his borrowed apartment—it was easier to think of it that way, ‘borrowed’ in a way that rang so similar to his past phrases to hide the word ‘stealing,’ instead of a ‘gift’ that slipped a little too close to ‘kennel’—away from the office. He did shoplift a new comms to do it with, one that hadn’t been connected directly to him. It was the matter of a mere moment’s flirtation with the salesclerk, complimenting their eyeshadow and fussing over the defunct headphones he had picked from someone’s pocket. Then the comms was in his pocket, tag removed, and he was out the door. 

The borrowed apartment was up a flight of stairs next to the doorway of a neighborhood bar—one that had a kind of genteel shabbiness that came with solid furnishings, only worn down a little, without being so fancy as to intimidate people away. It was the kind of bar Rex Glass would meet an informant in if he wanted to stand out as the best-dressed man in the whole place. Not quite shady enough for Christopher Morales’s tastes—or perhaps not shady enough that Morales would need to do business in, and just nice enough for him to get a quiet drink. Duke Rose would think it wasn’t exciting enough to find anything interesting in, but he might take a date there, if it appealed to their tastes. *The Comet’s Trail* was certainly a romantic enough name, and Duke was certainly a romantic. Which Peter was beginning to regret, in hindsight.

He had only just started to research when there was a knock at his door, causing him to rise to his feet, knife in hand.

“Yes?” Peter called out, approaching the door sideways.

“Landlord!” a voice called, almost familiar. “Gotta check your selenium trioxide detector.”

Ah. On the one hand, Peter had used a similar ploy himself, before, to make his way into residences. On the other hand, there was nothing in here worth stealing, and he did have a knife. 

Not to mention, Rita had mentioned that this place was connected to “the boss.” So the place was probably protected, and if he stabbed the landlord, his debt could increase. 

Seemed there was nothing for it, then. “Of course! One moment.”

He unbolted the door and opened it, stepping back with the movement to avoid making a target of himself in the doorway. That meant that his first glimpse of the landlord’s face came as something of a surprise.

His hair was much too long to be Juno’s, of course, but the shape of his cheekbones and forehead had Peter slipping a smile onto his face—to charm as necessary, of course—without thinking about it. And then he registered the hair, and the lack of scar over the nose, and a certain easiness to the face and smile and oh. _Oh._ It seemed ‘the other Mr. Steel’ didn’t refer to a husband, after all.

Training and instincts took over and Duke Rose held out one hand to shake while the other slipped the knife away. “Duke Rose. A pleasure. I believe I’m already acquainted with your…twin?” 

“Yeah,that’d be Juno, all right.” A fond, warm smile twisted its way across his lips, quick as the hand he brought up to grasp Rose’s, grip firm and brisk. “Though I usually try and stay out of the business. Benzaiten Steel. I run the bar downstairs and make sure everything in your place is up to code. Should have checked it sooner, but you know. Short notice.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all.” It was easier than it should be to summon the particular lightness that made Duke Rose so charming and carefree, without crossing into flirtation. A relief lifting Peter’s chest like the removal of a weight. His research skills weren’t a failure, after all.

* * *

Juno and Buddy’s meeting, a couple of days after the Kanagawa incident had hit the news, was less damage control than Juno had been expecting. Min had abided by the original agreement not to use his name and likeness, so his involvement wasn’t public knowledge.

“Except for the triad, everyone in their gossip ring, everyone in the _Kanagawa’s_ gossip ring…” Juno responded to Buddy’s remark sarcastically.

“If they know what’s good for them, they won’t spread it around,” Buddy said, so coolly that Juno didn’t really want to know what rumors she’d already been spreading on his behalf.

They did have to deal with the implications of the new power balance, as well as making sure that Rita had gotten Juno removed from the Hyperion P.I. registry. 

Juno hadn’t even known he’d still been in there. Being a PI hadn’t been his only business in a long time, or one he could actually indulge in for almost as long. 

But now, after just having rediscovered that part of his life, and watching it close down again and be shut away in the inaccessible past…he missed it.

He really needed to stop being a sentimental idiot anytime soon. 

“And lastly,” Buddy said, after they’d wound down everything else. “I’m afraid…well. I’m a little bit abashed to be asking this, to be honest, after the discussions we’ve had.”

Juno eyed her with suspicion. “Yes…?”

“I’ve been doing some research, and, well, I rather need to borrow your thief.”

“What.” Juno squinted at her. “What happened to ‘making me find something to do with him?’ Or, I’m sorry, did something about taking him as backup say that I couldn’t _handle_ this? Have I broken another of your rules?”

“Really, Juno, that tone is most unbecoming. Have a little more confidence, darling. I’m concerned about him, not you. I’d say you performed exceptionally this week.”

“Gee, thanks. Glad to hear getting played by Min Kanagawa is me performing exceptionally.” Juno injected as much dryness in his voice as he could.

“The woman is a terrifying sociopath who will likely outlive us both through sheer conniving and string-pulling. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” She paused, leaning forward to study him a little more intently. “Are you all right, Juno?”

“I’m fine. I’m terrific. Do you even need to ask my permission? Rose is his own person, if he’s interested in whatever you gin up, go ahead.” Juno pushed himself back from the table. “I have work to do. Are we done?"

“Juno.” There was a snap in her voice that made Juno stop where he was standing up. “This is, believe it or not, not about you.” 

Juno mumbled something that even he wasn’t sure of the actual meaning of, staring at the table.

“I’ve been doing research and discovered some rather interesting things about our new friend.”

“Oh, so he’s a friend now?”

Buddy had reached the point where she wasn’t even dignifying his cracks with a response. “I want to confirm my suspicions are correct before he is further integrated into the organization. Which I suspect he will be, given how well he managed to keep up with you.”

“He did alright. It was just a lot of running around town.”

“And keeping his cool while under armed threat from an angry Cassandra Kanagawa.”

“She was under a lot of stress,” Juno defended.

“With a mother like that, who wouldn’t be?” Buddy paused. “I take it you’re interested in securing her release.”

“…She doesn’t deserve to be left in there, Buddy.”

“And in that, we are in agreement.” She sighed, stretching her arms over her head. “I don’t intend to get him killed, Juno. I’ll have him back to you without a scratch.”

Juno huffed. “I don’t care, Buddy. Do what you want with him. I’m sure he’ll be fine. He bounces.”

“Mmmm?” Buddy’s one visible eyebrow went up in a very conspicuous way.

“You know what I meant.”

“Of course, Juno.” Buddy paused. “How’s Benten, by the way?”

“Fine. Broke up with the florist. Won’t leave Mars.”

“I wonder why.” 

Juno, like he did at the end of many conversations with Buddy, had the feeling that there was no way he was getting out of it with more dignity than he had at the moment, and so chose that moment to make his exit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to my roommate, the chem major, for spending ten minutes helping me find something that would have a similar undetectable toxicity to carbon monoxide with a much cooler name for a one-line throwaway reference.  
Also to the Discord, for helping me name Ben's bar.


	5. Duke Rose and the Bad Alarm Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple of heists, and a couple of realizations. And a lot of alarms.

In a fine example of the universe’s cosmic sense of irony, right after Peter had regained his confidence towards Juno, he immediately lost all his opportunities to see him.

A year—half a year ago—Peter would have given his eyeteeth to work with Buddy Aurinko, and counted it as cheap. 

Now, he would give them not to have to run another errand in Old Town. 

To be fair, it wasn’t all errands in Old Town. Sometimes Buddy would send him to museums or high profile political buildings, to case the joint or walk out with a file. In a particularly exciting one, he had pretended to be a patient suffering from some horrible disease to fool a conman into breaking custody, revealing where he had stashed his stolen money, and incurring far more lengthy police charges. In another, they had intercepted the theft of a donated heart from Hyperion Central Hospital, meant for a ten-year-old boy. Buddy made a particularly vicious phone call at the end of that one, having sent everyone else out of the room first. So, of course, Peter snuck into the vents to eavesdrop. 

“—suggest you make your peace now, Mr. Chesney.” Her voice was as mild as a cupful of arsenic, and just as deadly. Peter held his breath while whoever was on the other end replied. 

“Oh, I didn’t kill you. Time killed you. I just made sure it took.” 

Peter backed himself out of the vent without a sound.

He did get to see Juno at a gala, once, from a distance. Juno was twinkling at some elite of Hyperion City, in a gown glowing like the light pollution under the dome, smiling like it was nothing to give it away. 

Peter couldn’t help stopping to watch. What was Juno thinking, here? Was he happy? Did he know Pe—Duke—McReady—was here? What he was doing—?

_”Rose.”_ Vespa’s voice over the comms was a growl. “When your target moves, you _follow him.”_

“Right, yes, I’m going,” Peter blurted, still in a refined murmur, before he went after the Martian Councilor with renewed intensity. 

By the time he’d completed his part of the lift and handoff, Juno was nowhere to be seen. 

Peter wasn’t bothered at all, of course.

* * *

By the time they’d finally acquired the payoff for this con—a few million hard credits, part of a shipment conveniently ‘lost’ during the last years of the War and spirited to the spacedocks of Hyperion, ripe for funneling back into projects once the appropriate Planetary Councilor had been bribed—Peter was worn from playing a loud and obnoxious tourist, his feet were aching from the various impractical footwear this job’s characters had donned, and he was ready for a long, hot, shower. 

But he still rode in the truck all the way to the veteran’s center, and watched Siquliak—and a very excited Rita, who had insisted on tagging along—climb up to pull off the false back and reveal the pile of credits to the absolutely stunned doctor. 

It felt…good. Strange. But good. 

When he looked away from the vets coming up to exclaim over the amount of money that had just fallen into their laps, he saw Buddy, who was studying him with a thoughtful look on her face. 

“I’m sorry, is there another task you require of me?” Duke Rose asked, in the driest voice he could manage. Which wasn’t very dry. Peter had some faint regrets about making Duke such an emotional, invested character. Without a constant target to bounce against, he was left to expand a lot of energy in different directions, when no one seemed to be very receptive to it except Rita. Who wasn’t around half the time, busy with whatever Juno needed of her. 

“I was just wondering what you thought of all this, I suppose. We’ve had you running around rather blind, I suppose.”

“Confused, perhaps,” Rose murmured, casting his gaze over the veteran’s center. “I don’t see how this benefits you.”

“Well, I could talk about discrediting a political enemy, or creating goodwill in a community, or making another target for corruption fussers to go after,” she mused, following his gaze. “But really, in one move we’ve not only made life difficult for two rather terrible people, we’ve gotten some of their stolen money back to the people who were hurt for it. We’ve done some good in the world. I would say that’s worth it.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her gaze turn back to him, assessing. “I have a feeling you would, too.”

“Ah...” Peter had the sudden, unnerving feeling of someone catching him halfway through putting on his makeup. Duke Rose was a romantic. He could enjoy playing Robin Hood. But the way Buddy was looking at him gave him the feeling she wouldn’t accept Rose’s lighthearted, lightheaded answer. He made a further noncommittal noise for lack of anything else to say, studiously fixing his eyes on the scene before them and not noticing her reaction.

She let out an audible sigh after a moment—whether because she had found something she was looking for, or failed to find it, he couldn’t tell. He was rather afraid to guess. “You’ve done good work lately, Rose. Take the next couple days off. We’ll call when we need you.”

* * *

Peter was only too happy to take advantage of the break. The schedule Buddy had been setting was somewhat less strenuous than his usual cons, where he worked alone, but required him to show up for more days in a row than he preferred. Usually he made it a regular practice to take a day to lounge in a fabulous bathtub, moisturize every bit of his skin, and eat the local equivalent of bonbons. It helped keep him at the top of his game. 

His current resting place had a mediocre bathtub and he frankly didn’t trust whatever Martians used for bonbons, but he was on his second day of quality lounging when the knock came at the door.

Peter took a knife with him to answer it, of course, but more from habit than actual expected need. 

In the moments before the door opened, he let himself imagine if it were Juno on the other side—dressed in that beatup trenchcoat, looking righteously disgruntled, with some problem or other that he needed Peter to come with him to help solve. It was such an appealing image that when Peter opened the door, it took him a moment to pop the imagined scenario and replace it with the arrestingly real figure of Jet Siquliak. 

“I am in need of your assistance.”

* * *

Thankfully, Peter had been mostly dressed already, since he had been considering going out for dinner instead of continuing to stare at the walls of his apartment. He didn’t have to leave Siquliak in his living room for longer than it took to slide on a pair of low-heeled boots and make sure his emergency jacket was ready to go. 

“Really, dear, I’m flattered, but it’s my _vacation_ time.” Duke Rose fluttered his eyelids, resting his chin on one hand where he was lounged over the couch. Siquliak was sat on a rather ugly ottoman, hands resting on his knees. He didn’t look terribly comfortable, but also didn’t look as though he was ready to move anytime soon. 

“I am aware. This is why I have come to you. It was necessary to make this request when it did not interfere with Buddy’s plans involving you.”

“So I can take it this is something she wouldn’t approve of?”

“You can take it however it pleases you to take it. But this concerns an item Buddy has specifically enjoined me and several other members of the crew not to steal. I would prefer not to tempt her displeasure further than necessary.”

Peter could admit it—his interest was piqued. “And what item is so _necessary_ to steal?”

“You have heard of the Ruby 7.” It wasn’t a question.

Peter’s interest was _hooked._

* * *

Infiltrating the casino turned out to be quite easy, after all. Peter wore a very nice traveling coat and a pair of pink sunglasses and made an enormous fuss over his luggage until a rather beleaguered pair of concierges struggled to get the trunk and suitcase onto a cart and bring it up for him. He tipped them exactly the right amount to be forgettable, double-locked the door of the hotel room, and did a quick scan for cameras before knocking on the lid of the trunk in a pre-arranged signal. 

Jet undid the latch mechanism and climbed out, unfolding his knees with a complete lack of expression that made Peter wince in sympathy. 

“It should take them, oh, ten minutes to run facial recognition and fail to find me.” Peter moved as he spoke, tossing his coat over a chair and stripping off the floor-length skirt he had used to disguise his tailored thieving pants. The glasses went into a pocket—there was a pattern in the lenses that Rita had made for him. Upon being scanned, it planted a code in any camera system that made it crash after half an hour, taking any saved footage with it. Letting those be found would be a clue rather beyond ignoring, not to mention the loss of a very useful tool. “Once they’ve resolved that, say another seven minutes to try it again before they actually get Engstrom’s attention. Then, oh, between forty-seven seconds and a minute to get here, depending on what floor they come from, a minute of arguing with you, and then fifty-two seconds to get you to a meeting place and through Engstrom’s security. He'll check on the Ruby immediately, once he knows it’s you here. Call it twenty minutes maximum, with an extra thirty seconds for slack. Once you have Engstrom distracted from the feed, I can work on extracting the Ruby.”

“The Ruby7 will likely be alarmed. Engstrom has been…very pleased to own it.”

“I can handle an _alarm,”_ Peter sniffed, flicking his fingers in dismissal. “I assure you, I'll be in and out in a jiffy.”

* * *

Twenty-two minutes later, Peter drove out of the garage with alarms blaring away and a riotous grin on his face. So he had been a little sloppy, perhaps. Jet Siquliak’s escapes were notorious. He just had to get himself to the front door, and—

The Ruby came to a dead halt, trilling in what sounded like delight. Siquliak was standing in front of the doors to the casino, which were shuttered in lockdown, his arms crossed and face thunderous. 

“I will drive.”

Peter huffed, curling his fingers possessively, but the Ruby let out a delighted little trill and opened up the driver’s door. When he apparently took too long getting out, it forcibly tipped the seat and dumped him into the passenger side. 

“Ow,” Peter complained. He had to draw his legs up over the gear box before Jet got in. “How rude.”

“I thought you said you could handle the alarms,” Jet remarked, buckling in. “You should engage your seatbelt.”

Peter looked at the way he was beginning to press buttons and decided that was a very good idea. “I did handle the alarms.” 

Jet raised one eyebrow before engaging the clutch and sending the car speeding off across the desert. Peter restrained the urge to whoop.

“I see. It seems the mistake was mine. I should have understood that when you said you would ‘handle’ them, you meant you would endeavor to set off as many as possible.”

“Well, now you’re just being _rude.”_

* * *

The drive back to Hyperion City was remarkably quick, to Peter’s relief. He didn’t think he would have survived a much longer one, as Jet was beginning to take turns with entirely too much speed and grim satisfaction. 

Perhaps Peter should have stopped attempting witticisms after the first few, but he was having entirely too much fun. 

“—and _another_ thing!” Peter declared, as the car came to a stop. He was still giddy with leftover adrenaline, and didn’t notice the person outside until they rapped on the window. 

And then he looked up into the extremely unimpressed face of Buddy Aurinko.

The window rolled down immediately, and the Ruby let out a pleased trill.

“Yes, I’m happy to see you too,” Buddy told the car, giving it an affectionate pat. The look she turned on the car’s occupants was much less affection. “Jet. Darling.”

“Buddy.”

“I can quite clearly recall telling you _not_ to steal this car.”

“And I followed your edict exactly. Which is why Rose stole it for me.”

Peter gave a sheepish little flutter of his fingers and suppressed the urge to slide down in the seat until he was no longer visible. 

_”Really,” _ Buddy said, and Peter fought down a tiny bit of relief, because there was a tone in her voice that sounded like she’d gone all the way past unamused and come out the other side of finding it funny again. 

Peter was familiar with that tone from Ma—from other people he had known. The important thing now was to get out of her hair. 

“I think I’ll leave you three to it,” he decided, knocking politely on the door where a handle would be. The Ruby popped it open with a little chirp, while Jet grumbled.

Buddy took a step back to let him out, pursing her lips at him. “Clearly, you must be bored, if Jet is able to drag you off for his schemes.”

“Ah…” Peter suspected he hadn’t moved fast enough. 

“Be here tonight at midnight. Sharp.”

“…Yes, Buddy.”

* * *

The midnight assignment turned out to be a trip to the museum. Again. Peter dutifully collected his earpiece and map and set off to crawl through the ducts of the Museum of Colonized History.

“What does Buddy even _want_ with you, anyway?” he murmured, peering at the artifact marked on his map.

_”Mostly, to shut up me complaining about not knowing what Pilot’s up to.”_ Peter didn’t jump when his comm flickered to life, and no one can say that he did. Especially since he was alone in a vent at the time and no one else could have heard the _thud_ of his head hitting the ceiling.

“Ah, Juno. I didn’t expect I’d be hearing your dulcet tones tonight.”

_“Oh, knock off the rabbit poop.”_ A yawn came over the comms, and Peter let out a breath of a chuckle as he bent himself through a vent cover. He didn’t replace it behind him, as the instructions had been to leave some recognizable signs of a break-in. “_I’m just the only sucker who was willing to stay up this late.”_

“That doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy your company.” There was a series of light fixtures suspended from the ceiling with elaborate lamp setups, and peter jumped from one to the other with only a breath in between. Forward momentum, that was the key.

_“Keep telling yourself that. I’ll get mean if I’m here too much longer.”_

“Well, then I suppose I’ll have to work quickly,” Peter murmured, waiting for the moment when the rotating mobile passed in front of the motion sensor to drop down to the floor.

_“Well, you know what they say about finishing too fast.”_

“You don’t have any fun?”

A cough from the other end of the line. _“Uh. No, no. You get caught.”_

“Well, we can’t have that, now, can we.” Peter spotted his target, taking a circuitous path to reach it. “I think being caught by you is enough for a while.”

_“Are you sure? I heard you were looking for trouble earlier today.”_

“That was not my fault. You employ entirely too many people who look for trouble.”

_“Listen, I only _have_ people working for me because they come looking for trouble. You included.”_

“So it’s all my fault you’re here after midnight, waiting for me to steal…” Peter paused, frowning at the display case. “…a very ugly shoe.”

_“Nah, not you. Pilot’s being snitty, lately. Something about the election next year. This was a donation of theirs, years ago. It’ll get their attention.”_ The rest of the comment was a grumble. _“Or it will when I throw it in their face.”_

“So you would be here anyways.”

_“Yeah, I guess. Just—”_ another yawn. _“—without you.”_

“And that would be a terrible thing,” Peter teased, pulling out a glass cutter and setting to work.

_“Maybe.”_ Juno’s voice was soft, and warm, teasing Peter right back. Peter loved it when he—

Ah.

Hm.

Peter froze with the glass cutter almost all the way around its circle, staring into nothing, contemplating the warm feeling in his chest even as it shriveled up at being noticed.

That was. A problem.

He twitched. The circle completed. The glass fell inward.

As if to signal the distress currently popping up in his brain, the alarm went off. Peter cursed, grabbed the stiletto, and ran back for the vent. Without having to worry about setting anything off, he could certainly get back up to his exit much faster.

_“Rose? Rose!”_

“Fine, fine, I’m just…fine.” Peter let out a huff of air once he was safely in the vent. “It seems I’m having terrible luck with alarms today.” He shoved the shoe into his jacket and his feelings down to deal with later. “I’m going dark to get out. I’ll reestablish contact from the outside.”

_“Understood. Be careful.”_

Peter swallowed down the urge to reply, to keep the conversation going light and easy, and resumed his escape.

* * *

Once the shoe was safely delivered—down the elevator of the building, with his comm tucked inside, Peter couldn’t really handle seeing Juno Steel’s face right now, especially from behind the veneer of the fun and flirtatious Rose—Peter made his way back to the apartment to brood. In a bath, with candlelight, and the takeout Jet’s visit had delayed.

So. It seemed somewhere along the way he’d been stupid enough to fall in love with his target. Couldn’t really go back from that.

He’d just have to repackage it. Consider it…extra motivation.

He would have to recheck his contract status after today, but as far as he knew, he was a little over halfway through the debt. Faster than expected; Buddy’s string of jobs had really burned through it. Which meant he had at least another couple of months running around on Mars.

That would have to be time enough to…not _seduce_ Juno Steel, as though he were still the mark Peter had begun chasing at that first gala. Romance him, perhaps. Or set their relationship on more equal grounds, convince him _he_ should be chasing Peter. This couldn’t be too hard. Lay enough of a trail and perhaps Juno would follow him all the way to the stars. That was a nice thought.

A little voice in his head pointed out that the entirety of Peter’s relationship with Juno thus far had consisted of Peter’s failures to seduce the lady. Peter firmly told the little voice to shut up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some parts of the first section shamelessly cribbed from Leverage (in order: The Order 23 Job, the Cross My Heart Job, the Homecoming Job), because what the fuck is the point of writing about crime families if you can't steal from the best?  
Thank you all again for the love you've given this fic. I have some...ideas...for next chapter....which i am Very excited about.


End file.
